I'm working on a novel about a girl who grows up in the circus and her relationship with her father, who grew up in Hungary when it was under Soviet control and left during the 1956 revolution. It is told from both of their perspectives, and has been a joy (and very frustrating) to research and write. Needless to say, I am very excited about my next project!

Publishing requires a lot of persistence and a fair amount of luck.

The motivation to paint seems more pure, or at least more personal, when the artist is doing it for herself.

I was at an art museum with my parents, and was quite taken with a [Vincent] Van Gogh painting. I stood admiring the painting for some time, and then realized that in addition to feeling moved by the beauty of the painting, I felt a little jealous of the painter.

I am a tragically bad artist.

I was loosely aware that most of my characters were fundamentally selfish people, but I didn't intentionally make that a theme.

The book [The Dissemblers] officially came out two weeks after my thirtieth birthday...am I still young?